made large enough for such things,
but I doubt they will bother,” she answered. “They aren’t worried about the
speed of their return, for which horses would be useful, only the speed of
their arrival. Once they capture a slave, the other teams will respect their
claim.”
“I have to go,” he said firmly. “I can’t let this
happen.”
“You cannot stop them, Tyrion,” she told him. Her
features hinted at sadness, though it was well hidden by her near lack of
expression.
“Then help me!” he bit back, raising his voice. “Send
wardens with me.” An idea struck him then, “Yes! Send wardens, help me
capture them for the Illeniel Grove.” At least then they would all have the
same owner. They wouldn’t be forced to fight each other.
“We have no wardens, Tyrion. You know that. The
Illeniel Grove doesn’t keep slaves. You are the only one.”
She was right, of course. He wasn’t thinking
clearly. “Then send me—alone. I can’t let them take my children.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed, “Then remove my collar.”
Her calm exterior began to crumble, and her eyes
widened, “No, Tyrion. If I do that, you know what will happen. They will kill
you. All the She’Har would set themselves against you, to kill, or even to
capture you for their own.”
“You swore you would,” he pressed. “If I asked,
either that or…” He held up his arm, flattening his hand into a blade,
reminding her of the other side of their bargain.
“Maybe that would be better…” she said, a strange
hesitancy in her voice.
“They’re my family,” he said firmly.
“They don’t even know you.”
Tyrion was unmoved, his determination clear. “Makes
no difference, they’re my family even if they hate me.”
“You told me family was about love. You said I was
your family.” Lyralliantha’s face was hidden by her hair now, her eyes cast
down toward the floor.
He reached out, lifting her chin with his hand, “You
are. Love and hate are not so different; both require that you identify someone
or something as a part of yourself.”
The skin around her eyes crinkled as her face tensed,
“Then it’s alright that I hate you now?”
He kissed her briefly. “Of course.”
They stood together silently for a moment before she
broke the silence, “So those are my only options, your freedom or death
together?”
“Don’t neglect the first option, sending me on your
behalf,” he reminded her.
“You will set the Illeniel Grove against the others if
you kill their agents,” she cautioned.
He snorted, “I’m glad you have faith in my abilities.”
“I know you,” she replied. “If you find they have
already taken some of them, you must respect their claim.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then you must make certain none of them return to
inform the elders of your betrayal,” she added.
“I hope it won’t come to that,” he told her.
She clenched her jaw, resolving herself to the
decision, “Go. You have three weeks. Do as you will.” Lyralliantha stepped
back, leaving his path to the door unobstructed.
He took several steps, then paused, “I’ll need a
horse.”
“You are my agent, take whatever you need.”
***
An hour later he rode for Colne, pushing his mount as
hard as he dared. There was little in the way of underbrush beneath the
massive god-trees, but once he reached the border the terrain became more
difficult. The giant trees gave way to smaller oak and elm. Bushes and rocks
crowded beneath them, forcing his horse to slow and pick her way more
carefully.
The journey to Colne was just over six hours from the
border of the Illeniel Grove. If the Prathion group had left at dawn, they
would probably have arrived sometime after noon, perhaps a bit later since they
had started from Ellentrea. Given those assumptions, the Prathion group would
have had at least six hours to search before he got there.
Tyrion glanced at the sun where it hung low in the
sky. It would be dark when he
but I doubt they will bother,” she answered. “They aren’t worried about the
speed of their return, for which horses would be useful, only the speed of
their arrival. Once they capture a slave, the other teams will respect their
claim.”
“I have to go,” he said firmly. “I can’t let this
happen.”
“You cannot stop them, Tyrion,” she told him. Her
features hinted at sadness, though it was well hidden by her near lack of
expression.
“Then help me!” he bit back, raising his voice. “Send
wardens with me.” An idea struck him then, “Yes! Send wardens, help me
capture them for the Illeniel Grove.” At least then they would all have the
same owner. They wouldn’t be forced to fight each other.
“We have no wardens, Tyrion. You know that. The
Illeniel Grove doesn’t keep slaves. You are the only one.”
She was right, of course. He wasn’t thinking
clearly. “Then send me—alone. I can’t let them take my children.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed, “Then remove my collar.”
Her calm exterior began to crumble, and her eyes
widened, “No, Tyrion. If I do that, you know what will happen. They will kill
you. All the She’Har would set themselves against you, to kill, or even to
capture you for their own.”
“You swore you would,” he pressed. “If I asked,
either that or…” He held up his arm, flattening his hand into a blade,
reminding her of the other side of their bargain.
“Maybe that would be better…” she said, a strange
hesitancy in her voice.
“They’re my family,” he said firmly.
“They don’t even know you.”
Tyrion was unmoved, his determination clear. “Makes
no difference, they’re my family even if they hate me.”
“You told me family was about love. You said I was
your family.” Lyralliantha’s face was hidden by her hair now, her eyes cast
down toward the floor.
He reached out, lifting her chin with his hand, “You
are. Love and hate are not so different; both require that you identify someone
or something as a part of yourself.”
The skin around her eyes crinkled as her face tensed,
“Then it’s alright that I hate you now?”
He kissed her briefly. “Of course.”
They stood together silently for a moment before she
broke the silence, “So those are my only options, your freedom or death
together?”
“Don’t neglect the first option, sending me on your
behalf,” he reminded her.
“You will set the Illeniel Grove against the others if
you kill their agents,” she cautioned.
He snorted, “I’m glad you have faith in my abilities.”
“I know you,” she replied. “If you find they have
already taken some of them, you must respect their claim.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then you must make certain none of them return to
inform the elders of your betrayal,” she added.
“I hope it won’t come to that,” he told her.
She clenched her jaw, resolving herself to the
decision, “Go. You have three weeks. Do as you will.” Lyralliantha stepped
back, leaving his path to the door unobstructed.
He took several steps, then paused, “I’ll need a
horse.”
“You are my agent, take whatever you need.”
***
An hour later he rode for Colne, pushing his mount as
hard as he dared. There was little in the way of underbrush beneath the
massive god-trees, but once he reached the border the terrain became more
difficult. The giant trees gave way to smaller oak and elm. Bushes and rocks
crowded beneath them, forcing his horse to slow and pick her way more
carefully.
The journey to Colne was just over six hours from the
border of the Illeniel Grove. If the Prathion group had left at dawn, they
would probably have arrived sometime after noon, perhaps a bit later since they
had started from Ellentrea. Given those assumptions, the Prathion group would
have had at least six hours to search before he got there.
Tyrion glanced at the sun where it hung low in the
sky. It would be dark when he
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